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Oi, gevald

And a list of trivial tidbits



The inaugural Independent Georgia Music Awards ceremony (please, call me IGMA) was last Wednesday at the Earl. The event was intended to spoof the ALMA local music awards ceremony that coincides with Atlantis Music Conference. Unfortunately (and also fortunately), the ALMA ceremony was unceremoniously cancelled, leaving the IGMA folk with a target-less spoof. Here's a koan for CL's Zen Buddhist readers: Can you spoof something that doesn't exist?

The ceremony was hosted by Tim Cordier and his angry puppet sidekick. The beautiful Golden Turd trophies were given out for jokey categories -- all of which were nevertheless quite truthful. For example, Best Burrito Maker/Guitarist went to Aaron Mason of the now-defunct Ocelot. Accepting his award, he gave a touching speech about how he only plays guitar to support his first love: burrito making.

Another highlight was Best Gigolo Masquerading As An Artist, awarded to Artist and Alleged Gigolo R. Land, who graciously accepted the prize. My favorite acceptance speech was by Wax 'n' Facts clerk Paul. Upon winning the High Fidelity Award for Most Archetypical Record Store Clerk, he walked onto the stage and thanked everyone for the "Artist of the Millennium Award." Genius.

There was also plenty of music. Hedwig (Mark Salyer on his passport) wandered over from Actor's Express to perform a song with Confederate Fagg (the world's No. 1 Gay Metal Band!). Mike Geier performed a great acoustic set in the persona of Gusto, a George Hamil-tanned crooner in a yachter's outfit. He earned my everlasting fanhood with his great version of Jacques Brel's "Amsterdam." (True Andisheh trivial tidbit: Brel's "Mathilde" inspired the name of one of my dogs).

Soothe the savage beast: Has your cat been sulking lately? Before you change litter brands or bust out the kitty Prozac, note that L'il Friskers may simply be suffering from jealousy brought on by last Sunday's fifth annual Bark in the Park, the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra's free concert for Atlantans and their dogs. (Until someone can think of something cats do that rhymes with park, it's unlikely they'll be invited.)

Not being invited didn't stop approximately 1 million dragonflies from showing up, though. Bastards. They looked far more menacing than they actually are. They just seemed to hover and stare down at the impressive picnic spreads. The dogs also were well-behaved. There was very little barking (even during the event-sanctioned barking contest), and I only saw one fight. (True Andisheh trivial tidbit: While typing the previous sentence at my desk, my own dogs started barking at nothing in particular. Bastards.)

The music itself was fantastic (which shouldn't be a surprise, because the ASO is great). I think it was the best of the three "B in the P's" I've seen. The first half of the show was a mix of classical Top 40 (Blue Danube, Eine Kleine Nacht Musik, In Da Club) and some lesser-known but no less exciting pieces (Janitzio by Silvestre Revueltas). The second half was an entire symphony, Dvorak's No. 8.

Chatting with the audience between pieces, conductor Jere Flint was very charming. Introducing Strauss' Blue Danube, he seemed to innocently remark that 19th century in Vienna was a "very gay time," prompting quite a few approving hoots from the audience. Surprisingly, there wasn't a similar reaction when the conductor then noted that Strauss was so busy that he'd frequently work "six balls in an evening."

Obtshepen the junk: I'm not sure if it's a figure of speech or the actual number of families who participated. Whatever the source of the name, Congregation Shearith Israel's 800-Family Yard Sale last Sunday was a knickknack lover's paradise. The best item on display (which I don't think was for sale) was the official yard sale shirt. Everyone working the show wore a white T-shirt with blue letters that read "Official Shlepper."

The bulk of the sale was housed in the congregation's auditorium. Even late in the morning, there was plenty worth buying (decorative items, books, a homemade tape of the Barbra Streisand's A Star Is Born) and things you should never buy (a carpet made to look like a bag of Kingsford Charcoal and, I kid you not, a used loofah).

In the back room with the textile items, I spotted a folded napkin with writing on it. The only letters showing around the fold were "ambo," which made me think I'd found myself a Sambo handkerchief. When I unfolded it though, it actually said "Steamboatin'." It was a souvenir hanky from someone's New Orleans vacation. I was relieved and disappointed.

Original glazed: Fresh from its first anniversary celebration, Mudfire Gallery (and pottery center) had a little shindig last Friday to celebrate the opening of its latest show, Lineal. Located on Brookhaven's Dresden Drive (a street whose German namesake was briefly home to an American-made kiln in early 1945), the gallery featured works by six clay artists.

Remarkably lifelike for a clay artist, gallery co-owner Erik Haagensen VIP-toured me around the gallery and studio. He describes Mudfire as a gym for pottery lovers. You pay and come work out. I guess the gallery's shows are the equivalent of a gym's bodybuilding contests. I'm not really interested in making pottery, but I'm considering joining for two reasons. First, there's a jar of powder in the corner labeled Dolomite (true Andisheh trivial tidbit: Dolomite is my favorite blaxploitation film). Secondly, Mudfire has an XM radio system -- which I desperately want.

Oh, and the show -- it was great. I particularly liked Mark Issenberg's bendy vases -- very Dali and fun.

Wondering about the show's name, I asked a fellow gallery-goer the difference between lineal and linear. He explained that one ends with an "l" while the other ends with an "r." Thanks. Bastard.

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